


problem child

by mikantsumiki



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Violence, could be seen as sadstuck too, how do you tag abuse that isnt conscious, like idk he doesnt know what hes doing is abusive??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikantsumiki/pseuds/mikantsumiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has this problem of getting into fights way more often than he’d like to admit. He’s got his problem where he doesn’t know the thin line between not leaving a scar and too much blood pooling out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	problem child

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is ok i just got inspired and i dont kn ow  
> im sorry i also dont know how to write dirk or jake either
> 
> ngl ive always pictured jake to be the more aggressive one of them and i just went on from there yeah!!

He has this problem of getting into fights way more often than he’d like to admit. He’s got his problem where he doesn’t know the thin line between not leaving a scar and too much blood pooling out.

It didn’t start off as a problem, you swear; you’re sure this is just him being influenced by the movies he’s seen, the isolation he’s gone through.

Playful shoves turn into horsing around turn into tussles turned into black and blues and you’re lucky it hasn’t turned into broken bones yet.

Yeah, okay, sure, they didn’t really hurt you; you’re way stronger than you look and you’ve taken worse hits before than Jake English’s punches, but this was different. Sometimes, it seems like he doesn’t know how to _stop_ and it kind of scares you.

Soon, he takes it to school.

\--

They’ve never really been nice to him, the kids at your school. They pick on how he dresses, how he talks, the way he represents himself and how close he is to you. You’re no more popular amongst them than he is, but they’ve left you alone since they think he’s an easier target.

They throw paper planes and flicks of eraser at the back of his head, toss him distasteful notes and even once, he almost got thrown into a trash can.

You can see how angry it makes him, especially when you try to help. He says that he can deal with them on his own (“It’s the proper gentlemanly thing to deal with these blighters”), that he can handle it. You know he can’t, but you don’t have the heart to intervene. It’s not like how he’s approaching them—getting up in their faces and throwing out faux threats—is hurting anybody (yet).

\--

When he kisses you aggressively, enough to leave bite marks, you don’t say anything because it feels good.

When he pushes you onto your bed, pinning you down and leaving bruises all over your body while he makes love to you, you don’t say anything. It’s just the way he is with you – how he’s always been. You don’t see anything wrong with it.

When he does this to you often—you’re teenagers and you only have so much time before you have more responsibilities to take on, before you have to move out and either go off to college or find a job—and people ask about that purplish mark on your neck and arms, you brush them off while barely giving away anything.

It’s none of their business anyway. Nobody needs to know what goes on between the two of you.

Not a single soul.

\--

It gets worse as weeks ago by, as bruises heal only to be replaced by others, as Jake finds himself in the principal’s office more often. Sometimes he gets off with a warning and sometimes he gets suspended from school. It’s normal for him now, so you don’t think much of it.

He’s just standing up for himself, you tell yourself; every kid has a right to do that, to not put up with the bullying.

When you two walk home from school that afternoon, he informs you that he got expelled from school. You freeze for a moment but then ask what he did. He says that he pulled a gun on a kid that was trying to pick a fight with him, no big deal; they do that all the time in movies and sometimes, they actually shoot, but he didn’t.

You say that this isn’t a movie and that he could’ve actually killed that kid. He could’ve gone to jail for fuck’s sake and he’s lucky he’s not behind bars right now.

He doesn’t know what to say in return and just shrugs it off and looks away. He says, after a few minutes, that he could go somewhere else, where the kids are more polite and won’t be general arseholes to him. You want to tell him that finding a place like that is almost impossible—kids are so mean these days—but you still don’t have the heart to push that kind of thought into his head.

You stand back for a while.

\--

Even when he goes to a new school, it doesn’t stop. The kids there are just as cruel, but they also fight back. They’re as dangerous as your boyfriend is, but they probably have police records to prove it. They throw kicks and sluggers harder than professional fighters and he comes home every day with his own set of purple patches and once, a broken nose.

He gives those kids the same treatment though; nobody picks on Jake without getting a fight back.

When you’re putting ice to the bruise on his cheek, you tell him you think he has a problem. He shakes you off, says he’s fine, he can handle himself, and he’s got everything under control.

Yeah, he’s said that before and then he got kicked out of school.

You tell him that you’re worried for his safety; you’re worried about what he’s capable of, you’re worried that he might get himself killed. You press a kiss to his forehead and tell him not to go back. He tells you to relax and to stop worrying, sweetheart, nothing’s going to happen.

You’re ninety-nine percent sure you’re more worried than before.

\--

The next day, he comes home with a tooth gone and cuts all over his knuckles, but he’s smiling like an asshole that just took some little kid’s candy. He tells you in a fit of passion, kissing you deeply, that his problems are solved, he’s finally dealt with them once and for all.

You feel uneasy, but tell him that’s great. You ask him how he managed to resolve them but he brushes you off each time. Well, if he’s going to stop coming home like he’s in the middle of war, then that’s fine with you.

Later, you get a phone call. It’s the school, asking you if you’ve seen Jake around. You put him on the phone even though he keeps telling you he doesn’t want to talk to them. Their conversation is abrupt and short, one-worded or two-worded responses leaving his lips.

You ask him what they wanted once he places it back on the receiver. He comes up to you and says he’s sorry, but he doesn’t sound like he is. You pull him to your chest, embracing his short figure against you and tell him its okay. You’re not sure why he’s sorry.

You’re not sure until the next day when the police come to your house and take him away from you, lost for words.

\--

You visit him the first time when you’re allowed and you tell him again that he has a problem. He doesn’t believe you and says it was an accident, he’s sorry it had to come down to this.

You visit him the second time, weeks later, and tell him he has a problem. He’s skeptical, thinks he just went a little haywire; he’s perfectly fine and needs to learn control, it won’t happen again.

You visit him the third time, almost three months has gone by, and tell him he has a problem. He breaks down into sobs and says he’s sorry he put you through this, sorry he couldn’t have stopped himself before it got this bad, sorry for the wounds he left on you, both mentally and physically, and them, but mostly sorry for being a shitty boyfriend.

You press your hand to the plastic window, sigh into the telephone and tell him he’s forgiven. You tell him that once he gets out of here you’ll find him some help.

You’re not sure how long that’ll take.


End file.
